


this lost little girl

by red_streaks



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:10:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4793933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_streaks/pseuds/red_streaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma bites off more than she can chew when she tries kidnapping the Mayor's kid to Neverland.</p><p>In her defense, she was just doing her job. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	this lost little girl

**Author's Note:**

> another story I know BUT I'm updating the rest soon like, real soon
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!!

She’s dangling upside down from a tree, legs thrown gleefully over a sturdy branch when the wind shifts, leaves grazing her dirty cheeks. She pays it no attention yet, her tongue poking from between chapped lips as she closes one eye, aiming her slingshot at Rufio’s unsuspecting head.

_You’re not my real mom!_

Her aim is true even when the wind sends those five little words to her ears, and Rufio comes out hollering from the bush he was blatantly hiding in, screaming at her in his Ojibwa language.

“Too slow, kid!” She flips gracefully down, landing without sound on the hard ground and skips to where he’s rubbing the back of his head.

She sends him a wide grin, swinging her weapon around, knowing what’s coming next.

“You used magic! You _said_ you wouldn’t, cheater!” He lunges at her and she goes down laughing shrilly, letting her back hit dry leaves for a second before swinging a leg over his hip and pinning him down to the ground. 

“I never _promised_!” She laughs in his face, and he scowls, biting at the arms holding him down. “Oh, come on, kid.” 

He trashes around even more and she rolls her eyes, “Come on, we got another one!”

He stills after that and a slow widening smile graces his brown lips, until they’re both grinning madly.

“Where? Who? What did he say?”

She rolls off him, laying down on the ground and stares at the multiple trees above them, swaying in the island wind.

“Something about not having a real mom. Pack your lunch, kid, we’re going to Storybrooke, Maine!”

She jumps up and dusts the leaves from her dirty green tights and swings into the nearest tree, laughing freely.

*

Henry stomps up the stairs, wrapping his skinny arms around himself to keep from crying. He doesn’t look back, not even when her hears Regina slump against the counter, a plate clattering loudly in the granite.

He doesn’t look back, not when she tries to regain some composure, not when she tries to swallow back her tears, gripping the counter until the skin on her knuckles stretch uncomfortably tight.

He slams his door closed and only then does a sob escape her trembling lips, his words resonating in her ear.

_You’re not my real mom!_

He had been so quiet during dinner, so determined to act strong in front of a mother he doesn’t want, so Regina had allowed him to scrape his chair and chew with his mouth open, letting him have his little rebellion. 

When his fork had shrieked against his plate for the fifth time, Regina had broken the silence. 

“How was your day, dear?”

He shrunk into his seat, his feet dangling from the chair and had glowered at his plate.

“Why do _you_ care?”

“Well, because I care about you, Henry.” She tried to keep her voice from wavering but he had yet to look at her and all she wanted to do was reach out and smooth a hand over his hair.

“Why? It’s not like you’re my mom anyways.” He glared more fiercely at his plate, his cheeks glowing red as he contained all the anger and hurt he wouldn’t share.

“Of course I’m your mother! Just because I didn’t give bi-“

“You’re not my _real_ mom!” he had yelled, and her heart had stopped, cracked, and begun beating half as slow as before.

He picked his plates, huffing as he tried to wipe the stray tear that had escaped his eye, and set them in the sink. She tried following with her own full plate, wanting to mend his heart and wipe his tears but he had twisted away from her and left her, alone and shaking.

She supposes she deserves this, the anger and the betrayal, knows she couldn’t have hoped for things to mend so quickly after he found the papers, knows she should give him time to lash out and lick his wounds.

She swallows and swallows, until her tears are at bay and her heart isn’t tugging painfully as it tries to leave her body. She wipes her shaking hands against her pantsuit and sets out to wash the dishes, letting her little prince hate her.

*

The kid’s cute, at least.

His room is filled with glowing stars and dinosaurs, expensive looking bookshelves and action figures lining up his walls. She peers further into the window, Rufio grumbling beneath her as she adjusts herself on his shoulders.

“Hush!” She needs to be careful here, the kid is facing the window she’s looking through and if he wakes up, he’ll get a full view of her messy blonde hair and eyes.

The kid doesn’t stir, but his brow scrunches up and he pouts a little. Grinning, she thinks this will be an easy task. She’s about to open the latch, green flecks sprouting from her finger tips when the door to his room creaks open.

Ducking fast, and causing Rufio to smack his head against the white house, she hides from who she thinks is the ‘fake’ mother.

She waits a beat but when nothing happens, she oh so slowly looks through the window, laying low. There, bathed in the light coming from the hallway, stands a woman with a black robe on, face scrubbed clean and shiny. 

Her hands grip the window sill and her mouth falls open silently, and she can’t help rising herself higher to stare at the women.

Her dark hair is cropped short, much much shorter than her own blonde tresses, and she’s got an air of pompous, rich, affinity that has her biting her lip.

“What do you see?!” Rufio whispers furiously, his arms trembling where they’re holding her upright.

She pays him no mind, entranced in the way the woman leans against the door, her robe parting sightly as she lets her head fall to the side, staring mournfully at the kid sleeping fitfully. Her hands reach out, almost as if to touch him somehow, when she retreats them and wraps her arms around herself.

At this point, her pale nose is pressed against the glass, eyes wide as she watches the dark woman. She doesn’t notice how Rufio’s clawing at her legs, or how he’s complaining, and by the time she feels his arms give out, and his knees bend in exhaustion, there’s nothing she can do but yell in surprise as she goes down. 

She catches a glimpse of the woman’s wide eyes looking straight at her, horrified and angry, before she hits the ground loudly and grabs the back of Rufio’s collar, dragging him to the side of the house just as the window’s being thrown open.

“Holy _shit_!” the blonde whispers as Rufio glares at her, rubbing his arms. They wait in the bushes, the leaves familiar to them, knowing nobody will find them when there’s green nature around them.

“What did you see? Was he _ugly_?”

“No, no, she was- _woah_.”

“ _She_?”

She falls back to the ground, throwing her arms over her eyes as she recalls dark eyes looking straight at her.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” she repeats, and Rufio throws a rock at her.

*

Angry men in funny clothes and weapons arrive outside the dark woman’s house and the blonde chuckles as they come too close to the bush they’re hiding in. Rufio makes faces at them as they peer in, knowing full well they won’t see them.

“What do we do now?” How did she even _see_ you?” Rufio sits on his heels, ready for the next step. He’s not that much older from the sleeping kid with the dinosaurs, and the blonde smiles at him kindly, ruffles his hair and sits back.

“I dunno,” the blonde frowns, worried that the dark woman had spotted her, when only children could see her. “She’s pretty old, like even older than me.” 

His eyes go wide as he recalls her age, too old to be considered a kid anymore. “Maybe she’s like you? Like she has one of those hearts that believes and crap.”

The blonde snorts loudly, flicking leaves into the air, “Don’t be ridiculous. The kid’s trying to _run_ from her. Nobody would run from a heart like that.”

“I ran when I first saw you.” He smiles cheekily at her.

“Little shit,” she mumbles and sighs.

“But what do we _do_?”

“We wait.”

*

Henry skips breakfast, throwing one glance at the food laid out in the table, and takes a granola before hugging her briefly.

He runs out the door, opting to wait for the bus outside and Regina sighs, still feeling his little arms around her waist.

She has a long day ahead of her, already too long when she thinks of the police report she made last night, the fruitless search that had gone on well into the middle of the night. Sighing, she takes her brief case and locks every window shut, walks around the house three times until she nods and walks to the door.

She can’t help the feeling of being watched as she walks, though, and she glances around once more, swearing she sees blonde hair disappear behind a tree in her backyard.

*

“Okay, so what, we just _introduce_ ourselves?”

“That’s the plan.”

“That’s a dumb plan.”

“You’re a dumb plan.”

Rufio kicks the back of her heels as she watches the window, waiting until the lights go off.

“What if she walks in again?” Rufio complains.

“She _won’t_.” The light goes off and the blonde smiles. “Show time.”

Rufio hauls her up and she looks in, noticing that the kid isn’t even sleeping. He’s sitting at the edge of the twin bed, staring down a small rectangle, deep in thought. 

She opens the window easily enough, and sits silently on the sill, her knee propped up.

“What’s that?” She asks and the kid jumps a mile in his seat, staring at her with wide eyes. He takes in her dirty cheeks and the leaves in her blonde hair, the brown and green rags she’s got on and he slowly opens his mouth.

“A credit card.”

“Oh. What’s it do? She tilts her head to the side, staring at him with curiosity. 

“It uh- buys things.”

“Huh.” She leans her elbow on her raisedknee, the window sill digging into her bottom.

“Who are you?” He finally asks and she smiles widely, showing off all her teeth until she laughs shrilly.

“Peter Pan.”

“But- you’re a _girl_!” he sputters.

“That’s a what _I_ said!” She shakes her head, “they got the story all wrong.”

The kid stares at her with wide eyes, full of wonder and fear.

“I guess you could call me Emma, though.” She jumps off the window sill and laughs when his eyes grow wider.


End file.
